Saturday afternoon, I realized I was out of shaving cream. Rather than use soap, which just isn’t ideal, I snuck into Eric’s bathroom.
I sort of knew I shouldn’t steal his shaving cream. The last time I ran out and asked him if I could have one of his extra new cans, and he begrudgingly gave me his half-empty one and then he opened a new one for himself. But when I checked his current can, it felt pretty empty. I didn’t want to take an empty can, so I went under his sink where there was a two-pack of shaving cream, still wrapped in plastic. I busted one of them out and returned to my bathroom, where I took a shower and shaved. I planned to buy my own shaving cream at some point…soon.
Later that day, I hung some laundry over my shower curtain rod to dry. That meant the shower curtain was open a few feet, and you could see the purloined shaving cream in the shower. I briefly thought about moving it out of view, but I didn’t think he’d care that much. I actually didn’t even think he’d notice it. We don’t spend that much time in each other’s bathrooms.
Saturday evening, I went into my room to change my clothes. I took off my top and bra and was about to take off my shorts, when I stubbed my toe really hard on my closet door.
Eric came in moments later to see what the problem was, as he often does when he hears me screaming in my bathroom/closet (a surprisingly common occurrence ). I covered my bare chest with my arms and told him what had happened. He was sympathetic.
Suddenly, he looked over my shoulder.
“Rachel,” he said. “Is that my shaving cream?”
He had that kinda pissed/kinda laughing tone.
“No,” I said. “I just…um…found it.”
“Oh you found it? In my bathroom?”
“You have no proof! That could be my shaving cream!” I defended myself. “I could have bought it! Stop with these accusations and allegations and think about that!”
He didn’t buy that for a second.
“I was all out!” I said, tightening my arms over my bare chest. ”What do you want? A hairy girlfriend?”
“No, I want a girlfriend who buys her own shaving cream!”
We went on for a minute or two, mock arguing about it. Eric and I tend to have joking arguments like this from time to time; neither of us were that serious during the entire conversation. We were actually trying not to laugh.
“You better not have taken one of the new ones!” he said.
I froze. I wanted to deny it, but I didn’t want to lie. I tried to look innocent, but my mouth twitched.
He was not amused.
“The one in your bathroom is empty! I didn’t want to take an empty one! I was going to give it back!” I tried to make my case. “And why are you getting so precious over the new one? Yes, I opened the package and took out a new one. SO WHAT?”
He ignored me and marched toward the shower. Then he grabbed the shaving cream and marched past me back to his bathroom.
Suddenly I had an idea. I ran after him, still covering my chest.
He paused, considering this. I mean…I had a point.
“YOU VIOLATED MY FOURTH AMENDMENT RIGHTS! YOU NEVER SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE SHAVING CREAM!” I argued.” YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO COME IN TO MY BATHROOM!!!”
“Well, you have no right to be in my bathroom,” he said. “So…get the fuck out.”
I think the look on my face said, “Jeeeeeez, Mr. Selfish” for about a second before we cracked up; we tend to enjoy taking small things and turning them into ridiculously dramatic over-the-top “arguments” for our own entertainment.
He’s pretty good about sharing a lot of things, but he doesn’t like it when I help myself to his stuff without asking. He also gets cranky when I borrow his comfiest T-shirt (that he never even wears!) and didn’t appreciate it when I borrowed his deodorant for a few days because I was all out.
I thought living in sin meant sharing, right? Does your significant other react like this when you borrow their things?